


woven thread

by zanykingmentality



Category: Oxenfree (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, again no step sibling bs they're not related here, mildly haunted areas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: Of all the liminal spaces in Camena, Edwards island notwithstanding, the hillside truck is probably the most notable.





	woven thread

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with This 
> 
> unbeta-d as usual, so please forgive any lingering errors!

There’s a food truck lodged in the hill just off of exit 87. No one really knows how long it’s been there ━ Camena’s oldest citizens can’t even remember a time without it. Roots and vines layer over the wall wedged in the ground, and the whole truck is slightly off-kilter from level earth. The door miraculously still opens, but even rats and bugs are wary of calling the place home. It’s not even used for hookups. The truck just lays there, the essence of a liminal space.

 

The hum of bass guitar thumps loudly in Jonas’s chest. They’re at some party at some senior’s house ━ he doesn’t care that much, except that Alex is here, dark hair grown out, with Nona and Ren, and how was he supposed to say no when Alex looked at him asking if he’d go to a party with them?

 

His and Ren’s relationship is strained at best right now ━ the island took a toll on both of them, mentally and physically, and it felt natural that they’d hold grudges past it.

 

Well, that’s neither here nor there.

 

Alex stands next to the fridge, bag of _Smartfood_ cheddar popcorn in hand. Her head bops along with the music, but from where Jonas is standing, it’s clear she’s not enjoying herself. The smell of alcohol and weed-smoke hangs low in the air ━ though it’s a smell Jonas is somewhat used to, Alex looks between coughing and throwing up. Before he knows what he’s doing, Jonas is standing beside her, one hand on her shoulder. Alex’s head jerks to look at him.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” he shouts over the music. Then, without waiting for an answer, he takes her hand and leads her out the open front door.

 

Jonas’s truck is parked some meters away from the driveway ━ Alex lets out a shaky sigh and makes a beeline for it. The exterior is dark and Jonas’s backpack is thrown in the back, out for all the elements to assault it with. Though the car is off, Alex hops in the passenger’s seat and fiddles with the radio dial. Jonas slides into the driver’s seat.

 

“Sorry,” he says. “It looked like you were uncomfortable.”

 

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I was.”

 

Jonas taps his fingers against the steering wheel. Cool leather pads against his skin.

 

“We should go to Nippy’s,” Alex says, suddenly.

 

“ _Excuse_ me?” Jonas isn’t sure he heard her correctly.

 

“Nippy’s,” Alex says, a slight giggle lodged in the lilt of her voice. “You know, the truck that’s stuck in the hill.”

 

Jonas isn’t that familiar with Camena yet, but even he knows what she’s talking about. The most daring of them aren’t brave enough to venture close to the truck. A name like Nippy’s takes away some of the bite, though.

 

“Alright, let’s do it,” Jonas says, shifting the truck into drive.

 

* * *

 

It takes Jonas a few tries to finally pull up next to the truck. His pickup is dwarfed in comparison to the food truck embedded in the hill. Alex immediately hops out, grabbing a hay-covered blanket from the back and throwing it over her shoulders. The light blue blanket is reminiscent of an old, fading hair dye.

 

Of all the liminal spaces in Camena, Edward’s Island notwithstanding, Nippy’s is the place people are most aware of. There are stories of passersby hearing eerie wails, of strange lights flickering at the top of the hill, of tires screeching to a halt just a few paces off the beaten tar street.

 

The rusty door swings open with a creak when Alex pulls. Her hand comes away stained red-brown like blood. Jonas swallows thickly and looks at the precarious hanging lights and dirty, once-white countertops. A chef’s hat with a bite out of it lays on the floor at the lowest point. It smells somehow of dewey flower petals and metallic rust, a combination that makes Jonas bite down on his tongue for a quick moment. Alex breathes in deeply, coughs, and steps inside. After a moment of contemplation, Jonas follows.

 

The truck is surprisingly big. More of it is lodged in the hill than is visible from the outside, or from a glimpse through a window. Alex lays the blanket down on the off-kilter floor and lays down on top of it. Jonas swallows thickly.

 

“This isn’t as scary as everyone makes it sound,” he comments.

 

“It’s less scary when you’ve been through worse,” Alex says. It’s not great, but Jonas has to agree. “Besides, there aren’t any real ghosts here.”

 

Jonas believes it because Alex is the one who met the ghosts on the island. Alex is the one who still shivers, feeling skeletal hands run down her spine. He blinks at her as she pats the spot next to her on the blanket, faded blue a pop of color in the otherwise dull red-brown and gray air, an oasis in a desert of rot. Reluctantly, Jonas sits.

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says. Alex smiles slightly. Something inside Jonas doesn’t want them to stop talking, to fade into a silence with too many thoughts unsaid, so he speaks. “So, uh… parties aren’t your thing?”

 

“What gave you that impression?” Alex raises an eyebrow dryly, all in good humor.

 

“Maybe the vaguely constipated look on your face,” Jonas says. Alex bats at him with the back of her hand.

 

“You’re a real charmer, Jonas,” she says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Jonas just grins at her and nudges her with his shoulder.

 

“C’mon,” he says. “Talk to me.” He sounds desperate, even to himself, but Alex doesn’t get up or push him away.

 

“I mean, I wasn’t a huge partier before, anyway,” Alex says, “but something about this one… I don’t know. I just felt really overwhelmed. I think I like the quiet better.”

 

“That makes sense,” Jonas says. “No one to annoy you when it’s quiet.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

A low humming noise reverberates through the truck. Through the dingy windows, light speeds by milliseconds before a car’s engine roars past. The humming stops. Alex looks up at the crooked ceiling, eyes filled with a kind of curious wonder.

 

“Amazing,” she says. “The truck is _here_ because of some… space-time bullshit. Like the island!” She turns to Jonas. “It’s keeping itself here.”

 

Jonas looks around, and doesn’t really get what it is that Alex is feeling right now, but he thinks he understands why she’s so invested.

 

Another car rushes by ━ complete with the low humming noise and violent trembling of the walls. Alex looks up at the dust falling from the lights overhead.

 

“It’s kind of beautiful, in a way,” Jonas remarks. He looks over at Alex to see she’s already turned to face him, dark eyes glittering in the dim light.

 

“Yeah,” she says, kind of breathless, and her voice jumps straight to Jonas’s pitter-pattering heart. He’s staring, he knows, but he gets cut off when Alex jumps up and pulls him along with her. Grabbing the blanket, Jonas lets her pull him out into the cool night air, leaving the smell of rusty metal behind them.

 

A laugh catches itself in Jonas’s throat. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

 

“I wanna see it from the outside,” Alex says. She stands, feet planted, Jonas’s truck just a few paces away. Headlights rear toward them and fly by ━ the truck shudders, then _glitches,_ like every particle aches to fly away into the din of night, but they’re all trapped there by age-old forces. Alex’s mouth falls open. It’s hard not to look at her lips.

 

“Jonas!” she says excitedly. “Jonas, it’s so cool!”

 

Jonas’s mouth slants into a wide smile, every molecule of his body humming with affection. Alex turns to him, eyes glittering brightly, and Jonas’s skin thrums with the rhythm of her laugh.

 

“I feel like we’ve discovered something secret today,” she says.

 

Jonas hums in agreement. It’s something secret, but not something scary. Something they can keep to themselves, not something to dream about in technicolor nightmare. Jonas entwines his hand with hers; Alex looks up at him, lips parted and curving into a smile.

 

He blinks ━ she leans toward him ━ he presses forward ━

 

Something beautiful in ghostly light. Something half-written in the margins of a page. Something scribbled in the palm of Jonas’s hand, pressed against Alex’s cheek.

 

Something otherworldly.

 

* * *

 

When Jonas gets home, he collapses on his bed. Alex curls up next to him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the truck is absolutely a metaphor 
> 
> *clenches fist* god i love jonas so much


End file.
